


Safe Space

by MusicalLuna



Series: Feathers [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Crying Tony Stark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nesting, POV Steve Rogers, Sleeping Together, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, Wings, offscreen child death, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-12-05 13:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: They all handle the aftermath of the bad ones in their own way. That doesn't mean Steve has to leave Tony to do it alone though.





	Safe Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyshadowdrake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshadowdrake/gifts).



> for lightshadowversimilitude, who asked for wing!verse tony having a hard time after a mission and then there is fluff [re: theappleppielifestyle’s ideas about wing cocooning!](http://musicalluna.tumblr.com/post/128604158725/ok-u-were-asking-for-ideas-and-that-last-ask-wasnt)

They all handle the aftermath of the bad ones in their own way.

Clint usually winds up in the jacuzzi with a stack of pizzas; Thor, when he can’t go straight to Jane, wears himself out marathoning shows on Netflix; Bruce is typically half-conscious at best after a Hulk-out and heads straight to bed; Natasha tends her own wounds and sometimes has to fight the vacantness that threatens to overcome her by painting her nails and making lists of all the things she knows are true about herself.

Tony used to retreat to his lab, where he’d nurse his injuries and crash on the couch before getting to work on repairs or upgrades. Steve typically raided the kitchen before holing up somewhere with reports and footage of the fight so he could pick everything apart.

As they’ve grown closer though, they’ve shifted their routines and created a new one. Steve likes it better; gathering with the others makes him feel better than the old routine ever had, and he thinks it’s doing the rest of the team good, too.

Tony has been making the initial rounds with Steve to check on everyone, but afterwards when they all fall in to preen, Tony slips away.

Steve’s determined not to let it happen.

Normally he’d settle in to work on the wings of whoever got the worst of it—this week it’s Thor. He’s bloody, feathers sticking out at all angles. It’s going to take them awhile to sort him out— But Steve extracts himself and tells them to carry on and he’ll be back.

Then he goes to find Tony.

It’s not a difficult search—Tony is pretty predictable.

The workshop is strangely quiet as Steve lets himself in using the special code Tony had given him just a little over a month ago. It was a monumental show of trust from Tony, and it had been humbling to have Tony let him in, to open himself up to Steve so literally.

The bots are sitting in their charging stations and Steve would think they were powered down, except they’ve all got their cameras trained on Tony. They’re deliberately being quiet. Deliberately giving him space.

Tony himself is hunched over and even from this distance Steve can see the way the stubs of his wings are straining, spread out the way they would if Tony were—if Tony could still mantle, if he could still wrap himself up in the shelter of his wings. It’s something people do to comfort themselves and given what happened…

Steve aches for him. Tony must feel so exposed.

The last time someone had shared something like that with Steve, he’d been in Europe, the smell of gunpowder and burning homes still sharp in his nose—even stuffed up the way it had been—and his eyes and cheeks raw from crying.

Peggy hadn’t given him time to refuse the comfort.

Steve sets aside the protein-jammed smoothie he’d brought with him because Tony hadn’t lingered long enough to get one himself. Without wings, he doesn’t need much, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need at all.

Tony’s breathing is loud in the quiet lab, ragged with an edge of familiar panic that makes Steve’s chest clench.

Not wanting to surprise him, Steve carefully softens his voice. “Tony?”

Tony sucks in a too-wet breath, the muscles all the way up his back going hard as the metal plates of the armor. “JARVIS,” he grits accusingly.

“Sir? My apologies, I did not hear the command to lock down the workshop.”

“It was implied,” Tony growls.

“Captain Rogers, if you would please-–”

“Wait,” Steve blurts, “Tony, please. Let me stay.”

“I’m not interested in talking,” he says, voice flat. He still hasn’t looked at Steve.

“Good, me either.”

Finally, Tony’s head turns. His eyes are shiny, red-rimmed.

It’s hard, seeing him in pain like that, hurts like a physical wound. More than it should maybe. But Tony… Tony means a lot to Steve.

“What exactly have you got in mind then?” Tony asks, tone hard, edging on sarcastic.

Steve turns his palms up. “I’ll go if you don’t want me here, Tony. I don’t want to make this harder on you.”

Tony’s expression flickers, the corners of his mouth pulling down and he looks away. “I don’t know what you think you can do.” His voice comes out rougher than before.

“Can I touch you?”

There’s an easy joke there. It says a lot that Tony doesn’t use it to deflect. His breathing gets a little louder. “Sure,” he finally says, voice so quiet Steve’s not sure anyone other than him would be able to hear it.

They’d watched a young girl be drowned today. None of them are taking it well, but given what he knows about Tony’s past, Steve thinks he can see why it seems to be hitting Tony that much harder. That in mind, he takes extra care to move in slow.

Steve carefully touches Tony’s waist, keeping his hands light. He doesn’t want it to come off like restraint.

With the contact, he can feel Tony shuddering from the sheer effort of keeping himself in check.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs and presses up against Tony’s back, hugging Tony like he’s made of smoke and will vanish if Steve holds on too tight.

Tony makes a quiet, punched out sound, one hand curling up to grip at Steve’s arm, fingers digging in hard.

What he wants is maybe more intimate than where they are in their friendship, but Steve wants Tony to feel safe, he wants Tony to feel better. He’ll do whatever he has to.

He spreads his wings and curls them forward, sheltering them both underneath.

Tony’s chest heaves, sharp short bursts.

Steve’s wings close around them, blotting out the harsh lights of the shop, forming a bubble of quiet darkness.

Tony crumbles, a sob wrenching out of his throat. A handful of loud, juddering sobs tear their way out of him and then he goes quiet, though he still shudders against Steve’s body.

They stay that way for awhile, until Tony starts to sag against Steve’s chest, wiped out. He makes a soft noise of protest when Steve moves. To calm him, Steve brushes a hand down his back. Then he coaxes Tony to his feet and leads him upstairs with one arm wrapped around Tony’s waist.

In Tony’s room, Steve leaves him standing there for a minute and goes to grab a pair of sweats. He spots a comb on the bathroom counter on his way out and pauses to duck in and grab it.

When he comes back, Tony is standing there with his shoulders hunched, the fingers of his hand clenching and unclenching. “I’m good now, Steve. You don’t have to—”

“Is it okay if I stay?”

Tony’s mouth snaps shut. He’s quiet for several seconds, then he says, “Yeah, okay, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Steve holds out the sweats, letting them unfold. “Here, these will be more comfortable.”

Wordless and tense, Tony changes into them.

Steve gestures at the bed when he finishes, at the way the comforter is heaped up around the edges of the bed and fortified with pillows. “My bed looks like this, too.”

Tony startles and then looks sideways at him. “Yeah?”

Steve shrugs, focusing on climbing into the little nest Tony’s made for himself. “Sure. Isn’t the same when it’s empty, is it?”

“An empty nest sucks,” Tony agrees, climbing tentatively in beside Steve. He kneels, fists clenching on his thighs. “So uh—”

Lying back against the wall of the nest nearest the headboard, Steve gestures with his chin. “C'mon. You know how this goes.”

He waits patiently while Tony waffles, his throat working as he swallows. Finally, Tony mutters, “Yeah, what the hell,” and crawls forward, flopping down at Steve’s side. He’s nearly a foot away and Steve rolls his eyes; he slips an arm under Tony and tugs him over, so they’re pressed up against each other. Then Steve works his wings out from underneath himself and drapes them around them again.

Tony sucks in a sharp breath.

Gingerly, Steve starts running through the make-shift preening routine he’s come up with for Tony. He brushes Tony’s hair using the comb he slipped into the waistband of his sweats, feels carefully along Tony’s shoulders, arms, and legs for any injuries, and then starts rubbing the cramped muscles in Tony’s back and shoulders.

After a moment of initial hesitation, Tony returns the favor, reaching up to work Steve’s feathers back into place or remove damaged ones entirely. He slips one hand around to the spot at the base of Steve’s neck where his oil gland is and gets his fingers slick, then spreads it very carefully over Steve’s feathers one by one.

He’s not quite halfway done when he falls asleep, his dark lashes stark against his cheeks.

Steve’s not sure when he follows, but he wakes up to the sensation of the bed shifting under him. He cracks his eyes open and finds Tony, staring upward his eyes wide and clear, drinking in what’s above them.

Steve follows his gaze to the beams of sunlight trickling through the cracks between his wings, warm and golden.

“Forgot what this was like,” Tony murmurs, probably feeling the weight of Steve’s gaze. He lifts his hand into one of the beams, turning it over, twisting his fingers. “Haven’t seen this since…”

He doesn’t say since when, but Steve can guess.

“Your nest is pretty nice,” Steve tells him. “Maybe I’ll rest here more often.”

Tony glances over at him and there’s something grateful behind the amusement in his eyes. “My nest is the best, naturally. You can hop in anytime you like, gorgeous.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Steve murmurs.


End file.
